Strawberry Moon

I had been invited to watch the strawberry moonrise from my cousin's pier on Tuesday evening. On Monday night I received a call from my son, telling me he had fallen on Saturday. He had been sawing lower limbs from a tree to allow his family a clear view of the water below his house. What had actually happened was he had jumped clear of a falling limb and landed hard on a low cement wall hidden by vines. He had lain there in excruciating pain until his wife appeared. She had helped him up, and he rejected her urge that he go to the emergency room. Instead, he put the chainsaw away and proceeded to act as normally as he could until Monday, when his boss commanded him to leave and see a doctor. He saw a chiropractor who, on seeing the x-rays, informed him of a hair-line fracture in a vertebra. He was told that he had been lucky, but to forget he had feet for the next few days until the swelling had gone down. A doctor friend prescribed a muscle relaxant for at night.

Mothers (and fathers)among you will understand that when your child is hurt, the years of a child's maturation into adulthood vanish instantly. It is well nigh impossible to detach and keep your distance as the child makes decisions that do not seem wise. It can be agony to watch as pain contorts the child's face while he keeps things as normal as possible for the sake of his children, refusing to lie down and rest, even when you are present to ease that particular responsibility.

I was with Vanja and the children on the afternoon of the strawberry moon. He wanted me there, but he rejected every cautionary remark. I am pretty sure that my presence added to his distress more than relieving it. The best moments of that afternoon were when we gingerly walked down the path to the water's edge, and I photographed the little family as they looked for "periwinkles" (snails) on the reeds below the pier. When I finally pulled myself free, I was crying the whole way home. Sometimes the effort to behave normally because your child requires it of you is too much to bear. From the intensity of my wails, I think I might have been weeping for both of us.

I surprised myself later by walking down to the pier for the "rising". There were woman on the pier, mothers every one, who accepted my brief account of my anguish over Vanja's injury. They were compassionate, while encouraging me let go and partake of the evening. Soon a glass of wine with some lovely cheese and crackers, not to mention the soft pink light that preceded the strawberry moon, had completely shifted my focus. Before long I was focusing my camera on an uninvited guest. A great blue heron had walked down the pier with such effrontery that I couldn't help making the most of his flowing tie, his crimson trousers, and direct gaze. After my assurance that he was welcome, he flew to the peak of the pier roof and we all settled in to watch the rising of the strawberry moon.

Several photos (I had way too many to choose sensibly.): Vanja and his children, The well-dressed heron, The Strawberry Moon.